Looking For A Doctor
by sessha-chan
Summary: Sherlock decides to do a bit of research on the visitor they had at 221b. Someone really should tell him that hacking is rude. Sequel to A Quick Stopover. unBETAed.


A/N: Nope, still don't own. _Looking for a Doctor_ is a direct sequel (unplanned when I wrote the first) to _A Quick Stopover on Baker Street_. There may or may not be more to follow in this series. We'll see.

* * *

**Looking for a Doctor**

Sessha-chan

"Sherlock," John started, staring at his phone with a confused frown. "I just got a call from your brother."

"Tell him I won't do it," Sherlock replied absently. He tapped away at his (not John's, this time) laptop and peered at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Well, that'll make him happy," John said. The look of aghast confusion Sherlock shot him gave John a feeling of perverse pleasure.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sherlock demanded.

"So, you're actually going to listen to me now?" John asked, amused. "He wants you to stop hacking into government organizations that you aren't even supposed to know about."

Sherlock scoffed. "If I can hack into their databases, they have it coming."

"I don't think that that's not the point," John said. "Who are you hacking, anyways?"

"At the moment? UNIT." Sherlock swivelled his laptop around so John could see the screen. John leaned over to read the text.

"Wait. The Doctor? You're looking into the madman who beamed himself, a police box, and two other people into our flat?"

"Obvious."

John nodded. "So, what have you found out?"

Sherlock related what was written up in the UNIT files on the Doctor (yes, Doctor, not nutty-professor-with-no-fashion-sense, John had to amend his mental moniker for the alien).

"So, not actually human - Timelord. Old as Methuselah. Likes to zip about time and space in a blue box that's really both a space ship and time machine all wrapped up in one. Tends to get into problems with other aliens, mostly in defence of Earth. Keeps changing faces every time he... regenerates? That about sum it up?" John asked, moving about the kitchen, fixing two cups of tea.

Sherlock sighed. "In the simplest of terms, yes."

"Okay," John leaned back against the counter. "Aliens are real. Explains some of the more bizarre headlines we've had these past couple of years. What are you planning now?"

Sherlock looked coy. "Now? I'm going to continue my research. After all, UNIT is only _one_ of the top secret organizations that deal with the non-terrestrial."

"There are more?" John asked. The kettle boiled and he poured the water into the waiting mugs.

"There's Torchwood," Sherlock said. "Very hush-hush, Torchwood. Hardly more than a footnote, redacted from most reports and carefully edited out of the media but I still found it." He sounded so very pleased with himself. John set the cup of tea he had made for Sherlock on the desk next to his laptop. Sherlock was already focused on hacking through the firewalls that defended the Torchwood network. John left him at it. Mycroft wouldn't be very pleased but there was only so much sway John had over Sherlock, and that wasn't much. Better to try and be able to claim that, rather than persist and find another head in the fridge.

John settled himself into his chair, a medical journal in one hand and his tea in the other. As Sherlock was engrossed in worming his way into the super-secret alien-hunting organization that no one knew about, John enjoyed the rare moment of silence. The staccato clicking of the keyboard was rhythmic and pleasant. It was much easier to ignore than some of the noises Sherlock could make.

Several hours later Sherlock exclaimed in triumph. The sudden noise startled John. He dropped his journal and would have sloshed his tea, had there been any left.

"What?" he asked, suddenly irritated.

"I'm in," Sherlock explained, still working intently.

"In?" John frowned. Then it dawned. "Oh! Really? What are you doing now?"

"Downloading everything to an external drive," Sherlock said. "People who get this far have a bad habit of forgetting _everything_ and having _nothing_ to show for their efforts. I have no plans to follow that trend."

"Everything?" John asked, uneasy.

"Well, everything about Torchwood. Wish I knew how they did it," Sherlock mused. He continued working. John wondered if he should even bother ordering takeaway for Sherlock too.

"Do you think this is wise?" John asked.

Sherlock scoffed. "It's a little late for words of caution, John," he said. "The damage is done. I may as well glean all I can from - here! The Doctor's files. Extensive. Impressive." He smiled smugly as he copied the files to an external drive. "Mine now."

"Chinese or Indian?" John asked as he picked up his phone.

"Neither for me."

"Sherlock, you have to eat. We'll get Indian. And you _will_ eat something, you hear."

John didn't bother to listen to any further protests from his flatmate. He called their favourite Indian restaurant and ordered takeaway.

"So," John said, when Sherlock disconnected the external drive from his laptop, "what is the point to all this? I mean, other than hacking into databases that are probably protected to the enth degree."

Sherlock sat back in his chair and looked, well, conniving, was the best word John could think of.

* * *

On the way home from doing the shopping John was hardly thinking about Sherlock escapades with hacking potentially dangerous organizations. He was mentally running over how he was going to type up the last (interesting) case Sherlock had closed. When a tall man in an overcoat fell into step next to him it honestly startled John.

"Hello," said the man. American, John noticed.

"Hello," John affably replied.

"Captain Jack Harkness," said the American.

"Captain John Watson," John said. "Retired."

"I know," was the disturbing response. "Can I talk to you?"

John slowed to a stop and frowned. "What does American military want with me?" he asked.

"It'll just take a few minutes of your time," Captain Harkness said calmly with a friendly smile.

"No thanks," John said and continued walking.

"It's about Torchwood."

John stopped again. "Torchwood?" he asked. "What do you know about Torchwood?"

"What do _you_ know about Torchwood?" Captain Harkness turned the question back on him.

John's frown deepened. "I'm not getting into this sort for conversation," he said. "What do you want."

"Alright. Yesterday a hack was traced back to your flat."

"That wasn't me," John said.

Captain Harkness shrugged. "That's what they all say."

"No, really," John asserted, "It _wasn't me_. Talk to my flatmate about that sort of thing. He was doing research."

"Research? On what?" Captain Harkness asked.

"Some alien bloke calling himself The Doctor parked his box in our sitting room the other day. Sherlock wanted to know more, so he started researching." John's explanation was brief and to the point. His shoulder was starting to hurt from the strain of the grocery bags. He just wanted the conversation to be over. "Look, I know what he did is probably illegal and I honestly _did_ try to talk him out of it, but if you've ever met Sherlock Holmes you'd know that _nothing_ anyone says can stop him once he gets an idea in his head."

"You've met The Doctor?" the captain asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. Funny guy. Looked like a retired professor or something. Even had a bowtie and elbow pads," John winced at a twinge in his shoulder and shifted the weight of the bags in an effort to ease the load on his bad arm. "Never seen Sherlock look so interested in someone. Well, someone who was alive, anyways. Why?"

"No reason," Captain Harness said, unconvincingly innocent.

John studied the captain carefully. "Sherlock has astronomically high security clearance, you know," he said offhandedly. "I'd say even higher than the Queen, since she's only privy to _this_ country's secrets and Sherlock gets hired as a consultant worldwide. He can keep a secret." John snorted. "The trick is getting him to _say_ something, most of the time. So if you're worried about a potential security leak, I wouldn't worry about Sherlock."

"You seem pretty confident in him," Harkness commented.

"I know him," was John reply. "Are we done here? these bags are getting awfully heavy."

"Yeah. We're done." The Captain's phone rang and he peeled away from John to answer. John watched him get into a black SUV that drove off as soon as the door was closed. He sighed, adjusted his grip on his shopping bags, and continued home.

When he reached 221b he climbed up the stairs and deposited the groceries on the kitchen table.

"Sherlock," he said as he put things away in the cupboards, "you will never guess what happened on the street just now."


End file.
